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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218521">Surrounded</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/pseuds/HissHex'>HissHex</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JonPeter Week [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fade to Black, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Peter is a bit of a tit but he could be worse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:54:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/pseuds/HissHex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 5 of JonPeter Week - Refuge</p><p>Jon finds refuge in the empty embrace of Peter Lukas</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Lukas/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JonPeter Week [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JonPeter Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Surrounded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Everytime I write Peter’s dialogue I feel like putting a :) after it. A little smiley face.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon felt cold, not just the natural surrounding cold that came from the Archives themselves, but a deep, emotional cold. He was alone in the Archives for once, Melanie was… somewhere? while Basira had dragged Daisy to physical therapy. He pressed his palms into his eyes, clenching his teeth in an effort not to let out a sound of frustration. He felt his growing inhumanity like a spreading parasite within his blood and he knew the others were watching him, waiting for him to fail, waiting for him to become like all those other monsters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His feet moved without him really thinking about it, dragging him to the one place he used to feel safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even realise where he was until he had curled up in a chair opposite an old wooden desk that had sat in this office since Jonah Magnus had built the Institute 200 years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was in Elias’ office. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, Peter’s office now but no amount of Lonely lurking could remove the heavy weight of two centuries of Watching. Jon used to come here before the Unknowing, at first to just talk with Elias, a man he respected and believed in, and then to shout his accusations and questions at him when everything fell into ruin. Going up there when everything became too much was so much of an automatic response that he hadn’t even considered that Elias wasn’t even there anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A large leather chair sat opposite him, and he half-expected Elias to be sitting there waiting for him. He wasn’t of course. There were remarkably few changes to the office since Lukas had taken over. The large grandfather clock that had sat just to the left of the chair was gone and so was Elias’ large collection of what Jon had only recently realised were not weirdly shaped glass vases, and the abstract painting that slowly revealed itself to be made of eyes had been replaced by an incredibly generic ocean view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon sighs and goes to leave but cold hands lamp down on his hands, pinning his arms to the chair and keeping him in place. He craned his head back and just about saw a wisp of white hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello Archivist” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter had never been one to miss an obvious opportunity when it was dropped so easily into his lap. Or into his office he guessed. He stood there, smugly, as he felt Sims try to pull away. It was pitiful really, Peter had a life of shipwork and had never restrained from enjoying whatever he enjoyed, while Jon was frail with hunger and a lifetime of academia. He let his cold breath wash over the back of Sims’ neck, laughing as the other man shivered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look stressed Archivist, I could help with that if you wanted” He let the other man go and walked around the table to sit in the tall leather chair. Raising an eyebrow at the man still pressed against the opposing chair in shock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon stumbled over, felt himself be pulled in Peter’s lap, felt himself be kissed by cold lips, felt himself be held by colder hands. Jon was internally combusting and Jon could only fish out a single thought from the chaos if his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t, can’t do this. This is Elias’ chair, we can’t do this here” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt Peter laugh again from underneath him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be glad to know that it’s my chair now Archivist and I give you permission to do whatever you like in it. You’re welcome”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon strained his mind to think of an appropriate response to Lukas’ flippancy but Peter was large and comfortable, surrounding Jon in a false sense of safety, even with what little body heat Jon had being sapped away with their prolonged contact. It was so hard to concentrate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pressing his forehead into Peter’s neck, Jon could only feel as Peter slipped his belt off. He felt Peter pull his head back into another kiss and finally closed his eyes, letting the stress melt away. </span>
</p>
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